


Earth Ponies

by mlpsc26



Series: Perspective [2]
Category: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Genre: F/F, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 18:47:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9198341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mlpsc26/pseuds/mlpsc26
Summary: Pinkie grew up on a farm. That's easy to forget when it seems like all she does is party everyday.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This one has been a challenge to write, but so much fun. I'm really excited about it, which is why I'm posting it even though it still needs a lot of work. I hope you enjoy it.  
> Thanks for reading.

_ Applejack _

 

_ THWACK.  Thud thud thud thud.  _

 

Even when I’m sick and my head is pounding and I feel like I might die, I love the sound of ripe apples being bucked from trees. Mac must have got up extra early to make up for his sister being down and out, even though yesterday it seemed like he might be catching the same thing. 

_ THWACK. Thud thud thud thud.  _

It doesn’t really sound like Mac though. He bucks with one hoof, unless it it’s a real big tree, so as to avoid damaging the trunks. 

_ THWACK. Thud thud thud. _

Plus, Mac likes to load his baskets into the wagon after each tree. Whatever pony is out buckin’ right now ain’t doing that. 

“Uggggghhh.” A low whining moan comes from another room somewhere in the house. 

That’s Mac. He must be sick too. So who in tarnation is outside???

_ Thwack. Thud thud thud thud.  _

The door crashes open, and Applebloom comes in. 

“Hey, what’s the big idea?”

“Sorry, sis. Granny asked me to bring you somethin’ to eat before I go back outside.”

“Granny ain’t buckin’ is she?”

“What?!?! No! You silly sick filly. Why d’ya ask?”

“I’ve been listenin’ to whoever it is, but I can’t figure it out.”

“It’s Pinkie Pie.”

“Who?”

“Pinkie Pie.”

“What’s Pinkie Pie?”

“The pony.”

“Which pony?”

“The pony outside buckin’ apples.”

“Who’s buckin’ apples?”

“Pinkie!”

“Look lil sis. I ain’t feelin’ up to yer nonsense. Just tell me who’s buckin’ apples out there.”

“It’s Pinkie Pie! I already told you that three times!” Apple Bloom huffs. “Now, I’m gonna go before you can yell at me anymore for no good reason.”

The door slams. Somewhere in brain, my mind knows that I should apologize to Applebloom for being so short tempered, but the bulk of my processing power is being to devoted to-

_ Thwack. Thud thud thud thud.  _

Pinkie? 

That’s when I hear another sound.

_ Thwack. giggle giggle. Thud thud thud thud. “Hey mister, you get back in that basket. It’s an apple party in there and you’re attendance is mandatory.” _

Pinkie can whisper? 

This fever must be doing a real number on me. There is a good way to test it out though.

“Apple buckin’ party,” I say quietly. 

“Did somepony say party?” Pinkie is peering in through the window. How’d she get on the roof? 

“Pinkie?”

“Hiya AJ!” She’s talkin’ quiet, but excited. 

“What’r ya doin’ out there?”

“Well, I was in the market yesterday and I went to get some apples, because apples are yummy and sometimes it’s really really super duper nice to eat something that hasn’t been baked. Plus, I was super excited to see you, because you’re one of my bestest ever pony pals, but you weren’t there. It was just Granny Smith! So I asked where you were, but you always take the apples to the market on Tuesdays, that’s why I go on Tuesdays to get my apples, because I really like seeing you. But you weren’t there. Then Granny said that you were sick! Then I noticed that cart wasn’t as full as usual, so I asked if lots and lots of ponies had been buying apples, and Granny said no. She said that you and Mac were both sick, so no pony had been out to collect apples in a few days. She seemed really worried, which isn’t like Granny Smith at all. Granny Smith reminds me of Granny Pie. Grannies are tough. They don’t get worried. So, I asked if there was anything I could do to help, like throw you a get better party? Then Granny said, you weren’t up for a party yet, and unless I could buck a whole orchard full of apples by myself then there was nothing I could do. So, I said that if I could rotate a whole crop of rocks from one field to another, then I could probably buck some apples. But then I remembered that time you tried bucking all the apples all by your onesie. So, I decided I’d have to start early. So, I went right home and told Mr. and Mrs. Cake I was going to take a nap and I needed today off because I was going to help a friend. And here I am! I started with those really pretty trees over there, and worked toward the house. When Granny got up and saw all the apples she lost her teeth!” Pinkie Pie finishes her story with a giggle. 

This I have to see. I can’t get up, but I can raise my head just enough to see row after neat row of baskets full of apples. 

“Pinkie?”

“What’s up?”

“What time is it?”

“Time for you to get a watch, silly. But also, it’s just about 8 in the bright shiny morning.”

“What time did you start workin’?”

“I dunno. I just let that little bell inside me that says it’s time to get up and go the fields wake me up, between that and going to bed at 4 in the afternoon yesterday, I’m guessing I got started around 2 in the morning.”

“Have you eaten anything?”

“Yeah, Pa always says that breaks are important. So, when the little break whistle goes off inside me I take fifteen minutes and do something else. I was gonna go sing happy birthday to one of the ponies in town on my next one. Then I need to drop some muffins off to Fluttershy, since she watched Gummy for me last week even though he kinda freaks her out. This afternoon I need to make sure I catch up to Rainbow Dash, we’ve been planning a prank for weeks and it has to happen today, but will probably only take 7 of my 15 minutes, so I’ll probably get some lunch then too.”

My head is spinnin’. “Sugar cube, you didn’t say that you’d eaten yet.”

“Oh, I have. I’ve actually been sneaking an apple on every break, because they are a great source of healthy sugars. I hope that’s ok.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

Pinkie’s hair bounces a bit on it’s own. When she sees the questioning look on my face, she says calmly “5 minute warning.” As if I should just know what that means. 

“Do you need anything AJ? Like some water or some soup or some applesauce or-”

“Applesauce sounds really nice,” I cut her off. “But I can get it. “

“Don’t be a silly sickie!” Pinkie said, and then she’s gone. 

There was a “What in tarnation!” from Granny Smith down in the kitchen, and then Pinkie was back with a bowl of applesauce, a spoon, a bottle of apple cider whiskey, and a shot glass. 

“Bit early for drinkin’ isn’t it?”

“It’s never too early for drinking! I love having cider or orange juice with breakfast. Sometimes a nice glass of water is the best way to wake up in the morning. AJ, do you seriously never drink in the morning? Pa would say that’s a good way to get dehydrated while you’re rotating the rocks in the fields.”

“I meant the whiskey!”

“Oh, that’s not for me. It’s for you. Whenever Pa got a case of the sickies Ma would give him one shot of whiskey morning, noon, and night. No Pie pony has ever been sick for more than three days, but you’ve been sick for at least four days. I’m sure Apples have their own special ways of getting achy, sicky, snotty, coughy ponies all better; but I’m a Pie and whiskey is what I know. So, here you go!”

Pinke tips the bottle against my mouth, and the burning liquid corses down my throat. It burns, but in a good way- kinda like my legs one a cold morning; it’s the burn that says things are warming up. I’d actually like a second shot, but when I open my eyes Pinkie’s put the bottle on a side table I can’t reach. 

“Sorry I can’t stay to help with the applesauce,” Pinkie says as she offers me a bowl with a large twisty straw poked into it. “But this large bore straw should do the trick so you don’t have to work too hard to eat it. I’ll come check on you on my next break.” She plants a kiss on my forehead and is out the window. 

“Thanks Pinkie,” I say to the empty room. 

***

Once an hour for the rest of the day Pinkie stops by for a minute to check on me. She brings me water and soup. I get another shot of whiskey with my lunch, and one more with my supper. 

Sometime in the afternoon, I start feeling well enough to sit up in bed. Pinkie notices, and brings me a few things to read. One is the first  _ Daring Do  _ book, the fact that I’ve never read the series has been a thorn in the side of a few of my friends for a while. The other book is a reference book about common orchard parasites and how to handle them. Of course, there’s not a lot in there I don’t already know, but that makes it easy reading. Plus, there’s some technical jargon that’s interesting and a few ideas for getting rid of the little buggers that we haven’t tried before. She also brought me a couple magazines; the current issue of  _ Rodeo  _ and  _ Dog Training for Cowponies _ .

Granny has been doing her best to try and take care of me for the past few days, but the raw truth is that she’s slowing down. Taking care of Applebloom on her own is about all she can stand. Having me and Mac out has done a number on her. Bloom has been trying to help as best she can, and I know that Mac worked a day or two he shouldn’t have trying to pick up the slack for me. Everypony has been trying, of course they have; but Pinkie did more to take care of all of us today than we’d been able to do for each other in almost a week. 

It’s easy to forget that Pinkie grew up a farm pony, but I’ve been listening to the sound of apple buckin’ all day. The sun is starting to set, and she’s still at it. She’s definitely got that stubborn earth pony tenacity. 

Wait. 

She’s still at it?

Did she say that she got her start at 2 in the morning?

That girl needs to stop before she hurts herself. 

I test my limbs. I think I can make it to the window. 

My legs are shaky, but I’m able to manage the few steps to cross the room. 

“Quittin’ time Pinkie!” I yell as loud as I can manage. 

“Thank Celestia,” I hear Applebloom say from the ground. 

The rows and rows of baskets that were lined up outside the barn earlier are gone. The apple cellar door is open, and it looks like Granny and Bloom have been working on storing the fruits of Pinkie’s labor. 

I hear a wagon making it’s way toward the house from somewhere out in the field. For a farm pony like me, it’s easy to tell that it’s a heavy load being hauled at a quick pace. 

“Everything alright, Granny?” I ask.

“Righter than zap apple jam!” Granny shouts back. “That Pie mare has worked better than a freshly greased cider press. I reckon we’re all caught up from y’all bein’ sick. Now go back to bed before I come tan your hide!”

“Yes, Ma'am. Send Pinkie on up when she gets back will ya?” A mumbling groan was the only answer. 

I go to bathroom and splash some water on my face before going back to bed. As I lay down, I can hear the wagon drawing into the barnyard. I can also hear a pink pony singing.

_ “I wish I was an apple hangin' in a tree _

_ And every time my sweetheart passed _

_ She'd take a bite off me _

 

_ She told me that she loved me _

_ She called me sugar plum _

_ She threw her arms around me _

_ I thought my time had come _

 

_ Get along home, Apple-Apple _

_ Get along home, Apple-Apple _

_ Get along home, Apple-Apple _

_ I'll marry you sometime _

 

_ I wish I had a needle _

_ As fine as I could sew _

_ I'd sew her in my pocket _

_ And down the road I go _

 

_ AJ hugged and kissed me _

_ She wrung her hands and cried _

_ Swore I was the prettiest thing _

_ That ever lived or died _

 

_ Get along home, Apple-Apple _

_ Get along home, Apple-Apple _

_ Get along home, Apple-Apple _

_ I'll marry you sometime” _

  
I can’t help but smile. Pinkie is the only pony that can work all day and still have that hyper lilt in her voice. 

“Heya Pinkie!” Bloom shouts. 

“Hiya, AB. Ready to race?”

“You know it! I’m gonna beat you this time!”

“You can sure try!”

I can’t help myself. I have to see this. Pinkie has backed the overloaded wagon up to the cellar door. It’s as full as I’ve ever seen it. My heart swells again with gratitude for what Pinkie has done today. I don’t know how she’s done it, but there’s no point in trying to figure it out. Like so many other times, the only answer is: it’s Pinkie. 

Pinkie unhitches from the wagon, and drops the tailgate. She and Bloom position the shoots that lead down to the cellar. Granny must be down there monitoring to make sure the apples unload evenly. 

“Ready, Granny?” Bloom calls out. 

“Readier than you’ll ever be!” Granny shouts back. 

“Ready Pinkie?”

“You betcha!”

“Set. Go!”

It’s a flurry of activity. Bloom and Pinkie start dumping baskets of apples down their shoots as fast as they can, then neatly stacking the empty baskets. Bloom and me have had the same race dozens of time. She’s quick and efficient as can be, but she’s no match for Pinkie. Heck, I don’t think I’d be able to keep up with that mare. Pinkie reaches back with her tail to stage the next basket as she dumps the basket in her hooves down the shoot. Bloom has a small pile of apples on either side of her shoot. These are the few that have fallen when she’s overloaded the ramp. Pinkie doesn’t have that. She hasn’t dropped a single apple. If one tries to squirrel away from her, some part of her mane reaches out to guide it back. It’s that bit in the front she used to drill into the ground that time Fluttershy turned into a vampire fruit bat. 

In just a few minutes they’ve emptied the wagon, and Pinkie is gathering baskets to put away. 

“Don’t bother yourself with that,” Granny says to her. “We’ll tend to it.”

“Thanks, Granny, but Ma and Pa didn’t raise us Pie ponies to leave a job half done.”

Granny laughs. It’s a hearty, affectionate laugh. Her gravelly voice has a lot of pride in it when she responds, “They sure didn’t. I’m mighty tempted to write your folks and tell what a fine farm pony they made.”

From inside the barn Pinkie replies, “Awww. That would make them so happy. It’s been a really fun day. I haven’t worked on a farm in such a long time. Farming apples is really different than farming rocks, but farming is farming and Pie’s are farmers, and I’m a Pie. So being on a farm just feels like home.”

“Well you’re welcome her anytime.”

Pinkie comes out from the barn and starts hitching herself to the wagon. Granny tries to object, but gets cut off with a wave of a Pink hoof. “This is that last little bitty thing to put away, then I’ll be all done. Unless there’s something you need?”

“No sugarpie. I reckon you’ve done enough for us Apples today.”

“Okie dokie lokie. I’ll just get this put away and head back to Ponyville.”

“You’ll do no such thing.”

Pinkie’s mane deflates a little at Granny’s stern tone. 

“I’ll be makin’ you a big ol’ late supper as a thank you for all your work. Plus, Applejack wants to see ya. Not to mention that it’s dark out, and I ain’t about to let you wander around in the dark to get home. You’ll be stayin’ the night and that’s all there is to it.”

Granny turns toward the house at a quick clip (quick for Granny anyway). Pinkie’s mouth is open like she wants to say something, but she decides against it. In another moment, she’s put the wagon in the barn and closed the giant barn door. 

She looks up to my window. Then suddenly she’s there. 

“Hiya AJ,” she says giving me a nuzzle. She still smells mostly like vanilla and sugar, but she also smells like sweat and apples. “I’m gonna run home and tell the Cakes that everything is ok and not to worry about me. I’ll be back in a jiff. K?”

“Sug-”

Then she’s gone again. 

Pinkie. 

***

Less than five minutes later, I’ve settled back into bed and I hear the back door open. There’s a giggle. Only one mare giggles like that. I keep expecting her to say something to Granny, but other than the giggle Pinkie is silent. 

Then there are hooves on the stairs. Pinkie walks by my open door with Bloom sleeping and drooling on her back. In a whisper she asks, “Which one is Applebloom’s?”

“End of the hall.”

With a nod Pinkie continues down the hallway. I hear Bloom’s door open, then close again. 

Pinkie walks right by my room again and goes down the stairs. After another moment she comes back up, this time hauling a passed out Granny Smith. I have to put a hoof in my mouth to muffle my laugh at the sight. Pinkie winks as she passes. There’s another opening and closing of a door down the hallway. 

Again, Pinkie is the doorway. “I’m gonna check on Mac real quick, and be right back. K?”

She’s gone before I get the chance to tell her that my brother is just fine. I’m left wondering how she’s still on her hooves. I mean, Pinkie always has energy, but she’s been working real hard for a real long time. Mac would have had a hard time pulling that wagon I saw her and Bloom unload. She hasn’t rested all day. Despite her hourly breaks, I know that she has literally been running all over town all day. 

There’s a quiet clatter in the kitchen. 

What is she doing?

I hear the stove and the kettle. 

Making tea?

Of course. Mac likes nothing better when he’s sick than tea. 

There are some other noises that I can’t figure out while the Pinkie waits for the kettle to sing. Then I hear her walking down the hall, and get smacked in my face with a thought: Pinkie has been tending to Mac all day too. I’m sure he’s been getting the Pie Family Whiskey Treatment, just like me. 

How does she do it?

It’s Pinkie. 

I never thought of Pinkie like this, but it makes sense. She has to get up early everyday to work at the Sugarcube Corner. She parties late into the night almost everyday. She never holds still. I feel my eyes start to tear up as shame washes over me. I’d never thought of Pinkie as a hard worker. I’ve always respected and appreciated her commitment to parties, but I also looked down on it in a way. It wasn’t work. At least, I didn’t think it was. 

Hooves are on the stairs again, a little slower than before. When Pinkie comes to my doorway this time, she comes in. She has a tray on her back. There’s a steaming kettle, two cups, and some muffins that obviously just came out of the oven. 

She sets the tray on a table and slides it over to the bed before climbing up next to me and wrapping me in a hug. If I wasn’t tired and sick, then I’d probably pull away. I also probably wouldn’t be crying if I wasn’t tired and sick. 

“What’s wrong Applejack?” Pinkie asks, and for the first time today she sounds tired. 

“It ain’t nothin’ sugarcube.”

She squeezes me a little tighter. “You’re right. It isn’t nothing, which is why I asked.”

Force of habit makes me pull away, and she lets me go then moves to the foot of my bed. She pours tea into a mug and hands it to me, along with what smells like a plate of wheat, orange, cranberry muffins that smell delicious. 

The room silent for a few minutes while all of this happens. I just watch her. She should be filthy from working. She should smell crusty and awful. Her mane should be matted and tangled. She should be so tired she can’t move. 

That’s how I would be. 

But she’s Pinkie. Her mane is bouncy, but in a controlled chaos. The same gentle sweat smell is there from before, but mostly she smells like vanilla and sugar and muffins with just a hint of apples. She’s dusty, but not dirty. 

Pinkie is always like this. In all of our adventures, she always looks the same (except for those awful times when her mane goes straight and it seems like the sun might quit not shine the next day). There’s something different now though. For the first time ever, Pinkie looks tired. 

There’s no doubt in my mind that she could get up and throw a rager of a party if she needed to, but it’s there in her lank limbs and the subtle droop around her eyes. Beneath all the layers of bubbly, happy, giggling is a mare that is just exhausted. 

And she’s absolutely the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in all my born days. 

“AJ, you ok?”  She asks with a smile, and I snap back to reality. 

“Oh. Uh. Yeah. Sorry.”

“It’s ok. You just went to la la land so long that your tea is probably cold.” I take a sip. It’s lukewarm. 

How long was I staring?

I take a bite of my muffin. 

“These are really good Pinkie Pie.”

“Thanks. I thought about making apple cinnamon, but I think I ate about a zillion apples today so I made something different I hope that’s ok. There’s enough for everypony to have some for breakfast too. Sorry I can’t help out more tomorrow, but I promised the Cakes I would watch the twins in the afternoon, and we’ve got some orders to get caught up on because I wasn’t there today.”

“It’s alright, sugarcube. From what Granny was sayin’ and what I saw I reckon you did a whole week’s worth of helping in one day.”

She smiles at me. 

“There’s a list downstairs of things I’m going to try and do in the morning before I go. There’s a bearing going bad in the wagon, and-”

“Pinkie, you don’t need to do nothing else,” I say cutting her off. “You’ve already done more than I’ll ever be able to pay you back for.”

She giggles and gives me a quick nuzzle before settling back into her place at the foot of the bed. “Silly Applejack. I was just helping. You don’t have to pay any pony for helping. It was fun. It reminded me of home. Sometimes if feels nice to feel like an earth pony or a Pie pony and not just a party pony. Plus, I really really really want you to get better, because you’re you and you never get sick. At least not in all the time I’ve been in Ponyville. And it made me so sad when I went to see you on Tuesday and get my apples, but you weren’t there.” I know she’s talking slower than normal, because I understood every word she just said. 

“Well, I’m sure grateful.” The words feel hollow. Inadequate. Like offering an apple core to a hungry foal. I take another bite of my muffin. “You wanna go take a shower before ya bed down?”

She hops up. “Yeah! Getting all nice and clean is a super duper idea.” 

She skips silently out the door. Then leans back, “Granny said you wanted to talk to me about something?”

“Think you’ll be up for talking after your shower?”

“Appsolutely!”

She’s gone again. That’s good. Now I have a few minutes to corral my thoughts and feelings. 

What the hay is going on? Most of the time, Pinkie is a tolerable distraction. Sure, she’s funny and makes sure that I smile, which is something I’d probably forget to do too often on my own. But… she’s Pinkie!

_ And what exactly is so wrong with being Pinkie? _

She’s like a kid. She’s inappropriate and random. 

_ Who knew little things like that mattered so much to you. And what do you mean she’s like a kid? She’s fought the same battles you have. She’s cared for foals. She has a job that she’s really good at.  _

She’s just…..

_ Pinkie.  _

Yeah. And I….I guess I like her. 

_ You knew you liked her.  _

Yeah, as a friend, but….that’s not how I felt about her just now. 

_ You gonna tell her? _

I reckon I ought to take to somepony about it, but….

The bathroom door opens and Pinkie comes back into the room. Her coat is shiney. Her curls are damp. She looks better than Rarity. 

Horseapples. 

I’m starring again. 

And I can’t stop!

Pinkie giggles. “You’re really cute when you blush, Applejack.”

The warmth that’s been spreading across my cheeks like a fire in a hayfield gets even warmer. 

“Sorry, Pinkie. I didn’t mean to….you know.”

“Stare at me?”

“Yeah. Sorry about that.”

“It’s ok. It’s super nice to have a super nice pony look at me. Like sometimes Rainbow Dash forgets to look away from my flank, or Rarity kinda gazes at my hair or my eyes for a long time, and it makes me super happy. I know that nopony actually thinks of me like  _ that _ , but it’s nice to feel like maybe they could for just a minute and that makes me happy.”

Pinkie moved the table back to it’s place across the room and cleaned up the other food things while she was talking. Now she’s settled back into that same spot at the foot of my bed, and I can see her face again. 

There! There way back in the eyes behind all the giggles and silliness! There’s pain there. Before I can think to stop myself, the truth just comes tumbling out of my mouth. 

“Well, I think that may I think of you...like  _ that.”  _

She adds another layer of smiles over the top of the pain, which just got bigger. “Oh, Applejack. That’s super duper sweet of you, but you’re a terrible liar and you don’t need to say things you don’t mean just to try and make me feel better. I know-”

“I ain’t lyin’”

After a pause. “Really?”

“Yeah. I mean. I was just sittin’ here thinkin’ about it. I mean, you’re Pinkie Pie! But then you came in lookin’ nicer than Rarity fresh outta the spa and… well… yep. I guess I was lookin’ and thinkin’ like  _ that _ when I was starin’ just now. And you know what else?”

“What?” She replies to my rhetorical question in a whisper. 

I lean forward, which hurts because I’m still sore from being sick. “I ain’t sorry about it neither.”

The smile spreads across her face like applesauce on a plate. Slow and thick. There’s no pain in the eyes now. She’s just happy. 

“That makes me really happy Applejack. Thank you for telling me.”

I lean back into my bed. “You’re welcome sugarcube.”

We sit in silence for a few minutes. 

“Was there something else you wanted to talk about?” She asks. “I mean, I’m guessing that you wanted to talk about something else, because I don’t think you told Granny Smith you wanted to talk to me just to tell me that you like the way I look, especially because it sounds like you just figured that out. Which is totally ok. I’m just a pretty sleepy Pinkie, and I need to be at Sugarcube Corner really early tomorrow, but I don’t want to go to sleep yet if you still want to talk about something.”

“We can talk about it tomorrow, sugarcube. Maybe you can come over for that dinner Granny didn’t get around to makin’ you?”

She nods happily. 

“AJ would it be ok if I slept right here? I think I’m too tired to make it down the stairs without waking everypony up.”

“Right there?”

She looks around and adjusts just a little, then lays her head on her hooves. “Yep. Right here.”

I lean forward again, and hook my hooves under withers and pull her to me, then settle her into the blankets next to me. 

“You aren’t some dog Pinkie. You don’t have to sleep at the foot of my bed.”

“Oh. Ok. Thanks AJ.” She sounds shy. 

Oh. 

“Unless you don’t feel comfort-”

A warm hug wraps around me. 

“Don’t be silly Applejack. Of course I’m happy to be all snuggly with you, but  I don’t know if you want to be all snuggly with me and Mr. and Mrs. Cake said that I’m supposed to ask ponies before I snuggle, because not everypony likes it and some ponies might get confused, and I don’t want to make you confused when you already have that crinkle on your forehead that you only get when you have think about something. So, if you’re ok with me right here, then I’ll be right here, but we don’t have to snuggle if you don’t want to, but I want to. So, do you want to?”

Here goes nothing.

“Yeah, Pinkie. That sounds real nice.”

“Oh good!” She gives me another quick kiss on the cheek, and then deflates like a balloon into sleep. She turns her back to me and we fall asleep like that, with me holding her and wondering how she still smells like vanilla and sugar.


End file.
